He's The Silence (In This Mayhem)
by SereneCalamity
Summary: He helped to make things quiet. CaptainSwan. OneShot.


_I've watched this show for a while, but only recently have I become actually obsessed with it. So I got this together, and it was inspired by a line in a Sam Smith song,_ Like I Can _._

 _Disclaimer: I do not own the characters, or the title, only the plot and any mistakes made._

Emma Swan was used to her life being in this never ending state of chaos. She was a foster kid who had officially ditched when she was sixteen turned bail bondsperson. She wasn't the type to sit around and complain about the hand that life had dealt her, but sometimes she would like it if things just slowed down around her, and she had a second to catch her breath. Admittedly, she wouldn't know what to do with herself, but a girl could always dream.

From Monday to Wednesday, she was tracking down a man who was due in domestic court for abusing his wife and four year old son.

She found him, dragged his ass into the closest prison.

Collected her payment, banked her cheque.

Thursday to Saturday, she was running after a burglar who had a bad habit of only stealing from elderly, helpless woman.

She found him, dragged his ass into the closest prison.

Collected her payment, banked her cheque.

Saturday night, she went out with her friend—probably who she should consider her best friend, Ruby Lucas—and had a few drinks. She didn't get drunk. She eyed up a man who was playing pool, but decided against it, walking home alone at one in the morning. She fell into her bed and then was up at the crack of dawn the next morning, ignoring her hangover and getting to work.

Sunday and Monday, she was looking for a man who had been accused of cheque fraud, who had skipped three of his court dates.

She found him, dragged his ass into the closest prison.

Collected her payment, banked her cheque.

Sometimes her job was exciting, but most of the time, it was just a way to shut out the noise in her head. She was good at finding people, she was good at reading them just by glimpsing into their pasts and looking at their faces on the posters. She wasn't qualified for anything, she had never even finished high school. For a long time, she didn't even have a licence, but she had managed to pass it when she scraped together enough money to buy a tiny yellow 1972 Bug. It was the first thing she had ever actually owned, and she was very proud.

It was Friday—although the days all sort of bleed together, to be honest. That was kind of the point of throwing herself into work. She had gone down to a bar a block over from her house. The bartender gave her a smile and slid a shot of Jack across the counter.

"Not looking too good there, love," Belle French gave her a sympathetic look.

"I'm fine," Emma gave her a tight smile. Belle was lovely, but Emma didn't want to talk. She never really wanted to talk but Belle was just too _nice_ for her to completely ignore like she did with almost everyone else.

"Okay, well, the first one's on the house," Belle told her. "And here's your bourbon." Emma gave her another smile, carrying the glass down to the booth at the end of the bar, tucking herself into the last one so that she had a good view of the bar and was in a prime position to glare at anyone who tried to take the seat next to her. She managed to get an hour in before someone tried to hit on her. She tried to be polite, although the icy look in her eyes should have sent a message for the man to back the hell away from her. He didn't get the message though, and Emma was considering throat punching the man before an arm went around her shoulders and she was being tugged into a half hug.

"Hello, love. I'm sorry I'm so late," came a gorgeously accented voice. There was a kiss pushed to her cheek, a light scratch from the scruff on his face before he started talking again. "Uh, was there something that I can help you with mate?"

"Oh, no. Uh..." the man blinked at him and then made an apologetic face as he looked at Emma. "Sorry, miss. I'll see you around."

"Or not," Emma muttered as he turned around and headed back to the table he had been at with his friends earlier. The arm remained around her shoulders until he was facing the other direction and talking with the rest of the table before he dropped his arms and Emma managed to get a good look at her rescuer.

If she was the type of girl to swoon, then she would.

"Killian Jones," the man said, holding out his hand to her and giving her a devilish half smirk. She stared at him for a moment before reaching out her hand and taking it, giving it a firm shake.

"Thanks for that," she told him briskly. "But I had it under control."

"Of course you did, love," Killian answered, that knowing smirk still on his face. Emma narrowed her eyes at him, trying to gauge from his expression if he was being condescending, but he wasn't picking that up from his earnest eyes. "Next round is on me," he held up his hand to flag down Belle. "Two of whatever she's having," he told the brunette behind the bar.

"Of course, Mr Jones," Belle gave him a wide smile, and then shot a wink over at Emma, making her shift around in her booth a little uncomfortably.

"It's Killian, Belle," he said warmly. "I've told you that a hundred times." Belle just smiled as she bustled around behind the bar, getting them another two drinks. She put them on the table and rang them up on Killian's tab. Emma hesitated before picking up the drink and tilting it toward him.

"Thanks," she said with a nod. He picked up his own glass and tapped it against hers.

"No problem, love," he said with another one of those panty-dropper smiles.

* * *

Emma wasn't too sure at one point through that night she decided that she wanted to go home with Killian. She didn't really put it past the fact it was in those first few minutes when he had thrown his arm around her shoulders. But whatever it was, she didn't regret it.

He made sure of that.

He made sure of that three times over.

And for some reason, for once in her life, she didn't sneak out at five in the morning. She let him make her breakfast, and then he asked for number, and she actually gave him the right one. Killian didn't seem to want to rush things, and he didn't seem to expect anything more from her than she could give. He didn't ask her to stay over, although he always made her feel welcome. He didn't ask her to go out too dinner to fancy restaurants, but he always had a thick pile of take out menus in his kitchen. He didn't push her about her day, however he talked about his and left it open for her to tell him about hers.

"What the hell is going on with you?" Ruby Lucas asked one Sunday morning when they met for brunch at _Granny's_ diner.

"What are you talking about?" Emma raised her eyebrow at her friend before taking a big bite of her french toast.

"You're...Acting all weird and shit," Ruby replied, making a face and waving her hand at Emma.

" _You're_ acting weird," Emma smirked back at her and Ruby rolled her eyes.

"Come on, Emma," Ruby stated bluntly. "You've already smiled three times this morning. I'm pretty sure that's how many times you smiled in the _entire_ 2015 year." Emma laughed and Ruby looked even more taken aback before snapping her fingers and widening her eyes.

"You're getting laid!" She cried out. A couple of the other patrons in the diner turned their eyes toward them and Emma gave her a friend an exasperated look. Ruby lowered her voice but she looked as though she was still buzzing with excitement. "Okay, that's got to be it. You're getting some, right?"

"Ruby," Emma began, picking up her mug of hot chocolate.

"Emma," Ruby replied snippily. Emma tried to bite back a smile, but then it was curling her lips upward and Ruby's eyebrows shot upward, almost disappearing into her hairline. "Ohmygod. You like this guy. You like him, right? _And_ you're banging him!" Her voice was rising again and people looked over in their direction once more and Emma's cheeks went slightly red. Ruby sighed and leaned in close to her. "If you don't hurry up and give me some details, then I'm going to announce this whole conversation to the diner!"

"Okay, okay!" Emma held up her hand and let out a short laugh. She exhaled heavily and tilted her head to the side, acting as though it was going to physically pain her to discuss her personal life. "Yes, I've started seeing someone."

"Shit," Ruby's eyes were still wide. "As in, officially?"

"No, we're not...I don't know, we're not _together_ together, ya know? We're just...Having coffee and sex," she shrugged.

"Coffee and sex," Ruby smirked. "Sounds perfect for you."

"Yeah," Emma looked confused as she picked up her drink. "Yeah, it kind of is." Ruby didn't like the way Emma's face seemed to close down and she quickly tried to back track.

"I mean, it's _good_ for you now. Not perfect. Good," she corrected herself. Emma pursed her lips together and looked down at her drink. "Do you have a photo of him? I want to see a picture?" The blonde finally looked as though she wasn't thinking so hard and relaxed slightly.

"He's kind of gorgeous," Emma began with a grin.

* * *

"You had a shit day." It was a statement, not a question, as he handed her a cup of hot chocolate. He had it down to a t—whipped cream and cinnamon on top. She took it from him gratefully as she sunk down on his couch and propped her feet up on his glass coffee table.

"How'd you know?" She sighed as she took a sip.

"Well, Ms Swan," Killian began in his devastatingly gorgeous accent, walking past her and pointedly knocking her shoes off the table. "Despite what you may think, I'm not just useful in the kitchen or in bed." Emma feigned a look of surprise and he rolled his eyes at her. "Yes, I'm actually pretty perceptive, especially when it comes to the lass who has been warming my bed for the past five months." Emma was about to respond when she caught herself and then pursed her lips.

Five months.

Shit.

"Emma?" Killian was waving her face and she shook her head, snapping out of her thoughts. "You alright there, love?"

"Yeah, yeah. Course," Emma gave him a quick smile. He didn't appear convinced and she tried to clear her facial expression to reassure him. "Just work."

"Another one with kids, eh, lass?" He asked sympathetically and Emma found herself shocked into silence once more. Killian remained quiet, waiting for her response.

"How did you know that?" Emma asked, not too sure how to interpret the tingling heat that was rushing uncomfortably through her limbs and over her skin.

"Whenever it's got anything to do with a child, you touch that key chain," he observed and Emma froze. She hadn't even realized that she had picked up her keys and was rubbing her thumb over swan key chain. Killian reached out and covered her hand with his, giving it a comforting squeeze before leaning back on the couch. Emma appreciated that—he always seemed to know when she was feeling crowded and needed space.

"I just need to go to the bathroom," Emma said abruptly and dropped the keys and mug back down on the coffee table and left the room. Killian watched her go and waited until he had heard the bathroom door shut before he groaned and dropped his head into his hands.

He knew he shouldn't have mentioned the key chain.

Emma, despite what she thought, had to be treated gently and delicately. Because if he moved too quickly or said what he wanted too without thinking about his words, she would run, and he had no doubt that he wouldn't see her again. Because she had been running and protecting herself all her life, and she wasn't ready yet to admit that he was her quiet, that he was her to reason to slow down and maybe stop.

But that was okay.

Because he was in no rush and she was worth it.

"So, uh," Emma was back, and giving him a slightly guilty look smile—probably feeling bad about dashing out of the room. "You ready to watch _Mad Men_?"

"Love," Killian began with a twinkle in his eyes. "You know that I was _born_ ready to watch _Mad Men_."

* * *

Emma couldn't remember a time in her life when she was actually okay with not working six or seven days a week. It used to be that she needed it to keep her mind and body busy, but she didn't feel that urge now. It wasn't as though she was spending any extra time at her apartment—hell, the place was still a dump—but she was spending it with actual people. Actual people that she wasn't arresting. Something that she would usually have to be dragged kicking and screaming by Ruby to do. She had visited her neighbours a couple of times to congratulate them on their new baby.

Before, she had always found David Nolan and Mary Margaret Blanchard a little bit sugary sweet and far too optimistic for her to spend too much time around, but that didn't matter so much now.

And Belle, down at the bar, wasn't wearing her out with her constant energetic cheerfulness.

Then of course there was Ruby, who she was lucky enough to call her best friend. Ruby was pretty stunned when Emma told her that she was taking the weekend off, and then more surprised when it kept happening. But she didn't say anything, and she gladly took Emma out to her favourite restaurants and cafe's, even managing to get the blonde to take a zumba class at the local gym with her.

And Emma did it.

The clutter in her head and the constant chant that she wasn't good enough and she was alone had started to fade. The nightmare of being left behind and of the memories of the past didn't keep her awake all night anymore.

And she owed it all to Killian.

The messy haired, dark eyes, unshaven, beautifully accented man who asked for nothing from her and gave back everything that she had ever wanted.

It scared the hell out of her, just the thought of loosing him, and one night she woke from a nightmare—a new nightmare—where he had gotten tired of waiting for her and he had moved on. She hadn't been able to go back to sleep, and she had tossed and turned for hours before finally getting up and deciding to start her work earlier than planned. But the nightmare had put the thoughts in her head and now she couldn't get rid of them.

And that was when she knew that she had to do something that she hadn't done before.

* * *

So she wanted to be with him.

Properly.

As in boyfriend/girlfriend and exclusive and leaving a tooth-brush at his place and inviting him over to see her pit of an apartment and him meeting friends (which was pretty much just Ruby) and her in return meeting his friends, and brother.

Emma had to take a couple of days once she realized just what she wanted.

She ignored his calls and just text him saying that she was caught up in a case. He had said that she was fine, and to just come over when she was ready. The fact that he then left her alone, giving her her space, just made Emma think _more_ about how much she liked him because he didn't try to push things. It was now almost a week later and the only thing that Emma had heard from Killian was a couple of the weird cat meme picture things that he insisted was hilarious.

She had to admit, he was starting to wear her down.

Some of them were pretty funny, although she wasn't about to tell him that.

It was a late Friday night, and she had just closed another case and had a shower. It was about time she called Killian and told him where her head was at. She settled down on the couch with a book and her phone and was about to text him when her phone vibrated, Killian's face appearing on the screen.

"Killian—hi!" Emma answered on the second ring. "I was literally _just_ about—"

"Lass, I need you to come over," he cut her off, which was surprising. Emma frowned, wondering if something was wrong. "Lass?"

"No, I heard you, sorry," she shook herself. "I'll be there in twenty minutes." He ended the call abruptly and left Emma staring at her phone. Killian might be cheeky and devilish, but at the end of the day, his manners were impeccable. Emma couldn't remember a time he had interrupted her, or had ended a call without saying goodbye. She got off the couch and quickly found some jeans and a bra and shirt and then was heading out the door. Killian only lived a few blocks away, and there wasn't any point in getting her Bug out of the underground parking and navigating the late night traffic. She buzzed herself into the apartment and took the stairs up to the third floor. She rapped her knuckles against the door and then waited, cringing when she heard a crash inside.

"Miss Swan," Killian greeted her as he swung open the door, and then almost stumbled out into the hallway. Emma's eyes widened as she saw his bloodshot eyes and the smell of rum washed over her. His hair was even messier than usual and his shirt was rumpled, a couple of buttons undone.

"Shit, Killian, what's wrong?" Emma gasped as she stepped into the apartment.

"That obvious, eh, lass?" He slurred as he shut the door and then stumbled back into the lounge. Emma didn't answer that, she really didn't need to, given his condition. He slumped down on the couch and Emma wasted no time kicking off her shoes and sitting down on the coffee table, dragging it closer so that their knees were bumping. Clearly whatever it was had him _really_ upset, because usually he was adamant that his perfectly carved and crafted coffee table wasn't for feet or bums. "It's my brother," Killian whispered after a few minutes, his elbows braced on his knees and his head handing dejectedly. "There was an accident." Emma swallowed hard as she realized what was going on.

Killian's brother, Liam Jones, was a few years older than him and the men were very close. There were photos of the two of them scattered through the apartment at varying ages, and every time he was mentioned in conversation, Killian's eyes lit up. Both of their parents had passed away over the years, which had just drawn them closer together.

"I'm so sorry, Killian," Emma breathed, her hands going to either side of his face and drawing it up to hers. He looked so broken and upset and Emma's heart throbbed in her chest for him. Everything that had been scaring her about coming back to face him flew out the window. She leaned her forehead against his and stroked her thumbs over his whiskered cheeks. She had no idea what she was meant to say or do in this kind of situation—she was never the person that people went to when they wanted comfort. She had never gotten close to anyone to be _that_ person—except with Ruby, but even Ruby went to her Granny, knowing that Emma was useless with this kind of thing. "I don't know...I don't know what to say..."

"You don't need to say anything, lass," Killian murmured, his eyes closed as he took in a deep, unsteady breath through his nose. Emma continued to brush her fingers across his face before sliding them into his hair and pressing a brief kiss to his mouth. Killian pursed his lips, kissing her back and his eyes opened to lock onto hers. Emma almost choked on the desperation that she saw in his eyes and gave him the only thing that she had.

Herself.

She got off the coffee table and straddled him, pushing him back into the sofa. Killian made a little whining noise in the back of his throat as she ground her body against his, her hands tugging at his hair. His hands were frantic as they pulled off her clothes and almost ripped her underwear in his hurry to rid her of them. When he finally entered her, Emma gasped at the rough intrusion. But she was okay with it, because this was all about him—this was all _for_ him. She rode him until her thighs were burning and her nails had bitten angry red crescents into his broad shoulders. Afterwards, they stumbled down to his bedroom, both of their legs a little wobbly from sex and Killian definitely inebriated from the alcohol. They collapsed into his bed and pulled the blankets up and over their naked bodies. Usually they didn't hug when they slept, both of them liked their own space, but Emma rolled onto her side and put an arm around his waist, moulding her body against his side. Killian's body relaxed into hers, and it felt completely natural for her to press a gentle kiss against the muscular planes of his back until their breathing both evened out.

* * *

The next morning when Killian woke up, there was a couple of minutes when he was completely unaware of what had happened the night before. But then he had swallowed and his throat felt dry and scratchy and when he rolled over the world seemed to tip on it's axis and he groaned at the onset of a hangover rushing over him. He never got dunk through the week—what the hell was he thinking?

His brother.

It all came back like a flood and Killian's body physically recoiled as he remembered the late night notification he had received from his brothers girlfriend. She had been sobbing and barely able to get the words out, but he had managed to get the gist of it pretty quickly.

His brother was gone.

He had numbly dropped the phone to the ground and stumbled over to his couch. He lost track of how many hours he sat on the couch and just stared blankly ahead. At some pint, he had managed to get up and find an almost full bottle of rum and pop off the lid. He drank until the bottle was practically empty and then Emma's face appeared into his head.

Emma.

He almost didn't call her—she had been distant over the past week, saying that she was busy, which was code for she needed space. So he called her and kept it brief, and was relieved when she said she would be over soon. So maybe he had purposefully not told her why he needed her because...Well, because he was scared that she wouldn't come.

Even when he had opened the door to her, his heavy eyes lifting to meet hers, he wondered if he would be able to cope if she had turned on her heel and run.

But she hadn't.

She had come in, and comforted him, and had almost fucked him unconscious and then she had spooned him. She had wrapped her warm body around and sprinkled kisses over his back and shoulders and had held him until he had managed to fall into a fitful, dreamless sleep. He had woken up multiple times through the night, and the only thing that had lulled him back to sleep was Emma's body still cuddled against him.

Except for now.

She wasn't in bed with him and the mattress next to him was cold, as though it had been empty for a while. Killian swallowed hard, fighting back the scratching feeling behind his eyes, telling himself that he shouldn't be surprised. She had always been wary when it came to anything that could border on a relationship, and even though he knew that he wanted her to be more than a part time lover, he couldn't speak for her; Emma Swan was hard to read.

Killian dragged himself out of bed, planning on getting an aspirin and water, and them crumpling right back between the sheets and pretending the last twelve hours hadn't happened. He stumbled dejectedly down the hall, rubbing at his eyes blearily before coming to an abrupt stop in the doorway of the kitchen.

Emma.

Wearing one of his shirts and a pair of his basketball shorts and standing in front of the stove. She was teasing something in the pan, humming under her breath. Looking extremely domesticated, which is probably the last thing she had ever seen herself as.

"Emma," Killian said, his voice sounding hoarse and rough. She turned around to face him, a little pink cheeked from the heat of the stove. "You're still here." He felt the need to remind her, just to make sure she knew exactly what she was doing—what it meant to him, her being here.

"It's where I need to be," Emma told him evenly, although there was a little nervousness in her eyes. Her expression was resolute, and her gaze was telling him that she was there. She was staying.

She was his.

 _Thanks for reading!_

 _Please leave a review, they make me very happy :) x_


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